Bárðarbunga Has Blown
by UnluckyIrishBreifcase
Summary: Bárðarbunga, the largest volcano in Iceland, has erupted! And my friend Dalasport, after some rather silly skype convos, has inspired (read: commanded) me to write some one shots to show what we imagine Iceland is like during such an event. In other words, Iceland is going to be very, very pissy, and hilarity will most definitely ensue. (features OCs from my other fic Hellfire)
1. Chapter 1: A Word

As you all might or might not have heard, the largest volcano/volcanic system in Iceland, Bárðarbunga, has erupted. After some extremely amusing conversations with my friend Dalasport, who lives over there, I have been inspired (read: commanded by Dalasport) to write a series of one shots to commemorate what must be a spectacular even in the Hetalia verse.

Because a big volcano is gonna hurt. And that means Iceland is going to be acting very very strange.

Or, as I like to put it, Iceland is going to be one angry pissed off Jerk Ass.

Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2: Norway Gets Cursed Out

The clock ticked on.

The second hand click click clicked it's way across the face, accompanied by an occasional click from the minute hand. The hour hand simply crawled along, it's pace so slow it was nigh imperceptible.

Norway eyed the clock, his agitation growing with every single movement. He tapped his fingers against the phone in his pocket, waiting for a call, or text, or _something_. Denmark pointed out something about it, but Norway ignored him.

Finally, after the hour hand slipped passed the second hour of the meeting, a break was called. Norway took his chance, and ducked out of the room.

He quickly found a quiet spot around the corner of the room. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. There was nothing. With an aggravated sigh he unlocked it and swiped his way to the contacts section. After a few more taps, Norway clicked call, held the phone up, and blocked the noise from the conference room with his other.

Three rings. With everyone the tapping of Norway's foot increased in tempo. 5 rings. 6. _10_.

Just as it seemed the call was going to go to voicemail, someone _finally_ picked up.

"Hallo?" Iceland's tired voice came on the other end. Norway suppressed a sigh.

"Iceland?" Norway asked. The was a pause from the other end.

"What is it Norway?" Iceland asked in turn, barely masking his irritation.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home," Iceland sounded like he had been sleeping in. Norway rolled his eyes, not feeling any sympathy for his little brother.

"And why are you at home?" he pressed. There was no answer from the other end. Norway said nothing, waiting for Iceland to respond.

When it became apparent Ice was not going to say anything, Norway sighed again. Then he closed his eyes, took in a breath, and cut straight to the point.

"Iceland, the meeting started two hours ago. Where. Are. You?" he asked, voice almost a growl.

Another pause.

Norway was going to declare this entire conversation a lost cause and hang up, but Iceland spoke up again.

And Norway received the shock of a couple lifetimes.

"Oh, I am so, _so_ very sorry," Iceland began, his voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm and venom. "I was just laying here, dying of agony and maybe blood loss on my kitchen floor. Here! Let me just run off this massive Motherf Fucking volcano- Oh, wait, that;s right. I **CAN'T**." Norway flinched away from the phone, startled by the sudden volume. "Now," Iceland continued, voice dropping to a dangerous tone, "would you please kindly do me a favor, and _**FUCK OFF?**_"

*Click* The phone went dead.

Norway stood in stunned silence, phone a solid foot from his ear. He stared at it, processing what he just heard. Never once in his long life had he heard Iceland swear in English. Now, not only that, but Iceland had actually swore at him.

After a moment, shock turned to anger and incredulity. He stared at the phone even longer before, finally, finding the words to rathe adequately sum everything up

"That little shit!" he hissed.

This was going to be a very, very long eruption.


	3. Chapter 3: Big Brother Faroes

(**Author's Note**: iiiiiit's FAROE. The OC from Hellfire gets his own bit, as well as some character development! The Faroe Islands were settled by the Norse well over a hundred years before Iceland was discovered, and was settled by Gaelic-Norse for centuries before that, so while his exact age might be a bit vague, the Faroe Islands would very much be older than Iceland. Also, the Icelanders and Faroese consider themselves to be 'brothers' so Faroe is, as far as I am concerned, Iceland's big brother or half-brother. Personally, I like to think Icey is full brothers with Faroe, and half brothers with Nor, for various historical reasons. Anywho, ramble over; Onward To The Oneshot!)

* * *

Faroe Islands had a rough life. His home was in the middle of nowhere, on a tiny island chain halfway from Iceland to Scandinavia that could barely support a human population. Worst of all? Denmark was his boss/landlord. Life couldn't get much worse.

Except it could.

Because Faroe had to deal with Iceland

Now don't misunderstand, Faroe liked Iceland, very much. They were the Island brothers of the North Atlantic, and, as Faroe liked to joke, he didn't even need a DNA test to prove it.

While Iceland definitely took more after Norway's line of the family tree, Faroe and he still bore more of a familial resemblance. Faroe's hair was darker and he was shorter by half a head, despite being well over a century older than Ice. But they looked almost the same, that much was undeniable.

One major distance between, however, was volcanoes. Iceland had several of them, more than either of them could count. And while the rest of the world only thought Iceland became a reclusive hermit during an eruption, Faroe was almost exclusively stuck with taking care of his 'little brother'.

And apparently, there had been an eruption.

This normally wasn't much of a problem, even if Iceland and Faroe had been on shakier terms than normal thanks to a bit of backhandedness with mackerel. But this time, something was different. Volcanoes were a major nuisance at the most, but never _this _bad.

"Iceland, get off the floor," Faroe asked, very much unamused. He had gotten a confused call from Denmark, who, on behalf of Norway, had asked Faroe to check on Iceland.

Iceland just glared at him. He was rather awkwardly splayed out and curled around a spot near his side, which Faroe assumed was the source of the volcano. Upside down, on his back.

On the kitchen floor.

"Iceland, please," Faroe sighed. This might've been a bit extreme, but wasn't exactly unusual. He would never say this to Ice's face, but he acted like a woman on their bloody period during an eruption. Complete with moodiness and overpowering cravings for sweet stuff; which Iceland argued distracted from the pain.

"_Iceland_," Faroe said, more sternly. Iceland curled even farther into himself, making a little ball of loathing on the floor.

"No," he mumbled. Faroe walked over and crouched down by Iceland's head. Sometimes he had to deal with Iceland the way one would with a small, obstinate child.  
"Alright, which one?" he asked, feigning patience.

"_Narmaburma,_" Iceland mumbled. His face was tucked up against his knees, muffling anything he tried to say.

"_Iceland_" Faroe warned.

"**Bárðarbunga**," Iceland snapped, bringing his head up. He fixed Faroe with a glare, then thumped it back down to his knees.

Faroe paused.

That was a _big_ volcano.

He felt himself soften almost immediately. No wonder Iceland was being such a piss baby, he was probably hurting something fierce.

Faroe shifted around, lowering himself to sit by Iceland's back.

Not a word was said was spoken for a long moment. Iceland shuffled himself backwards, pressing his back against Faroe's leg.

After another long silence, Faroe finally asked the question that had been eating at him since this all began.

"Iceland?" Faroe asked, innocently enough, "why did I get a call from Denmark asking me to check up on you?" Iceland stiffened.

"...Nmm," he mumbled.  
"Iceland."

"Nmm!"

"_Iceland_."

"_NMM!_"

"Iceland, what did you do?"

"..." Iceland sighed in defeat. "I told Norway to 'fuck off'."

"... wow. Good job."

"Oh for God's sake **shut up**."


	4. Chapter 4: Beware of Flying Books!

Author's Note: YOooooooooo school is terrible but i got this out thanks to the undeniable power of Tyr.

Anyway, it's short, abrely edited, and Den gets abused.

Hope You Enjoy~

-Erin

* * *

The nordics were all but intolerable even on a good day.

But during a volcano? Oh _hell_ no.

Iceland had, at Faroe's insistence, crawled himself to the home of Denmark; who, for reasons Iceland could never possibly fathom, hosted pretty much all the Nordic council get-togethers, formal or otherwise. It might have had something to do with the fact that the actual house was rather large, but Iceland didn't care at the moment.

His stomach felt like it was ripping itself apart.

Bárðarbunga sat just at the bottom of the left side of his ribcage. It hurt more than could be believed, and everything near it felt sick and twisted.

All in all, he was not in the mood to be trifled with.

Norway was rather pointedly ignoring Iceland. Sweden had the good intuition to stay a healthy distance away.

Denmark, meanwhile, was just a dumbass.

Faroe had apparently 'forgotten' to warn the self-proclaimed Big Brother of the nordics about Iceland's current condition. The older island nation was currently against the wall on the far side of the room with a book. Ice presumed it was to watch the inevitable fireworks. Sweden was visible through the door to the kitchen, apparently busy making something. Iceland didn't know nor particularly care what.

Before long, the relative peace of the room was shattered when the master of the house swaggered into the room.

Iceland screwed his eyes shut and tried not to groan. He willed Denmark not to come near him. Which, of course, he did.

"Yo, what's gotten you in such a piss mood?" Denmark asked, loudly. Iceland ignored him. "You ain't shown your face in a week, and Færøerne won't tell me why."

Iceland still said nothing.

With a loud huff, Denmark straightened like he was going to walk away.

"Good damn, dude! You're like a girl on her period!" he exclaimed, heading towards the kitchen.

He hadn't even made it to the doorway when Iceland made him pay for that comment.

A book, a solid door-stopper, went flying through the air, and connected with devastating accuracy with the back of Denmark's head.

The room was dead silent. The book thudded to the ground along with Denmark himself. Faroe looked on, eyes wide and mouth agape. Sweden ran out from the kitchen, only to stare at the nation groaning on the floor.

Iceland meanwhile, only stared with cold, hard satisfaction.

Soon enough, Faroe came to his sense, and to the surprise of neither of the other two fully conscious people in the room, let out a guffaw. After a moment, Sweden joined in with a suppressed snicker of his own. They laughed and laughed as Denmark hauled himself to his feet. He groaned, and rubbed the bank of his head. He turned to gawk at Iceland in incredulity.

Norway came down the stairs. He looked confused, and switched his gaze from Faroe, to Sweden, to Denmark, to the Book to Iceland. After a moment to process it, he gave Ice a withering look. Ice ignored him.

Denmark had gotten to his shaky feet. He was still looking at Iceland, who only glared back.

"You're crazy!" Denmark yelled. He turned around, retreating to the saftey of Norway and the stairs. "Fucking crazy!"


	5. Chapter 5: Brothers in Suffering

Author's Note: Another one!  
As you all might or might not have heard, the Japanese volcano Mt. Ontake erupted. This volcano is the, if I recall correctly, second largest in the country.

Iceland's Bárðarbunga, meanwhile is still going. So guess who get's to suffer together!

Hope You Enjoy~

-Erin

* * *

Every so often someone else would glance towards the little section of wall on one side of the meeting room. Then they would look away, and yet another nation would take a stealthy look.

This went on for a solid half an hour as Germany, who always seemed to take over at some point, directed business.

The scenario fueling the glances and whispered chatting was an unusual one.

Japan was seated against the wall, head between his knees, and clutching his abdomen. He was unusually pale, with a sickly about whatever skin was visible flush. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his more traditional everyday clothes to the formal business wear he often appeared in. A small moan of pain could be heard every so often.

What was even stranger was Iceland sitting right next to him. The island nation was also showing the same pale skin and unhealthy redness, and a hand was clamped hard over a point on his side he was partially curled over. He had been patting Japan on the back with a rhythmic *thump thump* for longer than the meeting had been going on. Words of encouragement could be heard murmured under his breath during particularly quite points.

Eventually, one nation could not take the curiosity any longer.

Austria stood to address the room. Germany's voice died, and he gave the other germanic nation a deeply disapproving look.

"I know we all want to know what's going on here!" Austria announced. He pointed a finger at the two island nations huddled by the wall. "What on Earth has gotten into Japan and Iceland?"

There were sounds of agreement from all around the table. Several other nations voiced more or less the same version of Austria's question.

"They look rather sick," Slovenia pointed out.  
"Ya, maybe they both caught something?" Peru offered. The muttering took on a more worried tone.

"Maybe they both got the E-" America started, standing up as well.

"SHUT IT!" Germany snapped. Austria and America sat down, and the nations were silent once again.

Germany turned to look at Iceland and Japan. Iceland had stopped his murmuring, and gave Germany a petulant glare. Japan remained curled.

"Is there something you would like to tell us?" Germany asked, addressing the both of them.

"Not really, no," Iceland retorted. Norway rolled his eyes and Denmark cringed. Sweden, however, had to hide a smirk behind the back of his hand.

"What's wrong with the both of you?" Germany pressed.

"Mother Nature," Iceland told him sarcastically. Germany frowned, and the meeting erupted into more whispers as they tried to figure out what he could've meant by that.

Germany crossed his arms, like a parent waiting for more answers from a child.

Iceland did not appreciate the move.  
Germany was, as far as Iceland was concerned, his junior. By a few centuries. It irked Iceland to no end that his status as a millennial, as nations older than 1,000 years were jokingly referred to, was often forgotten due to his youthful appearance.

Iceland straightened up, narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth.

"Me and Japan both have huge motherfucking volcanoes going off right now, thank you very much," he declared. The room went absolutely silent. _No one_ had heard Iceland swear before, save for the nordics. "And these huge motherfucking volcanoes tend to _hurt_. A _lot_. So until you've had the _joy_ of having your insides twisted and boiled by you own geography, then get off you high fucking horse, and get back to you fucking meeting!" Iceland finished, voice rising to an angry shout.

Germany looked like he had been slapped, and everyone in the room was a few shades paler.

Iceland went back to patting Japan on the back and murmuring. There was a long pause afterward in which no one made a sound.

Finally, South Korea spoke up with feigned cheerfulness.

"Well that answers that question!"


End file.
